Growing Pains
by Fic Fairy
Summary: When Connie's two roles of Clinical Lead and Mother collide, the competition she's instigated between Cal and Ethan takes on a new level of importance.
1. Chapter 1

It's Friday night, and I'm exhausted. I thought the stresses and strains of working as a cardiothoracic surgeon were bad, but my most recent tenure, in emergency medicine, is proving far harder. Funnily enough, I don't remember it being this exhausting during the rotations I undertook during my training, but I suppose I was younger then, not to mention surviving on a diet of caffeine and adrenalin.

I arrive home, thankfully in one piece given the fact I've hardly been able to keep my eyes open during the drive, and let myself in. The house is quiet, again, thankfully. This time last week I'd arrived home to the commotion of half a dozen pre-pubescent girls in my living room, Frozen on at top volume, the contents of my make-up bag all over the carpet and the smell of burnt popcorn in the air. But tonight, there's nothing, the house is in darkness and silence, save for a crack of light coming from the pushed to living room door, and the low hum of the TV.

I kick off my heels, as my feet curse me for subjecting them to the torture all day, and head into the living room, where Grace's Nanny, Anna, is curled up on the sofa, watching a repeat of Made in Chelsea on ITV2, our cat, Elsa (of course) at her side. One look at me later though, the pause button has been hit, and she's out of the room before I can comment, returning shortly afterwards with a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, a glass, and a bar of Galaxy Cookie Crumb Chocolate.

What can I say? I have her exceptionally well trained, and it's not just Grace she's paid to take care of.

I sink down into my favourite armchair, and am duly handed both a glass of wine and a large chunk of the afore mentioned chocolate. Anna looks at me again, laughs slightly, and then evaluates my appearance with her characteristic Australian bluntness.

"Connie, you look like shit."

There are very few people who can get away with speaking to me in such a manner, especially those whose pay cheques I sign, but my relationship with Anna is such that I take her words on the chin, laughing as well, before taking a sip of wine, savouring the moment.

"Long shift?"

I nod. 'Long' didn't really cover it. 'Insane' would probably have been more accurate. Two RTAs, two cardiac arrests, a blatant but denied case of domestic violence, a 14 year old girl off her face on amphetamines, a meltdown by a member of the nursing staff, and my second in command caught in flagrante with the hospital porter. Just another day in the ED.

I bite into the chocolate. It's the first thing I've eaten all day, and it tastes unbelievably good, earning Anna further brownie points. I take a few moments to enjoy it, before turning my attention to a missing part of the picture.

"Where's Grace?"

"Sleepover at Imani's."

I ponder this, mentally scanning through my daughter's friends, trying to recall the exotically named, Imani. Anna, obviously sensing my confusion, pipes up to help me out, "Hannah? The one who dresses like a 7 year old Pussycat Doll. She's reinvented herself as 'Imani'."

This helps a little, but not much; most of Grace's Year 3 class seem to have wardrobes far more suited to 16 year olds, so picking Hannah out of the bunch isn't much easier than identifying Imani. Once again Anna comes to my rescue,

"Anorexic looking mother. Arrogant father with wandering hands."

"Ah right." The pieces fall into place, having encountered the pair at various PTA events over the last couple of years. "I didn't realise she was staying away tonight." I added, feeling a little guilty that Anna has a better grasp of my daughter's social calendar than I do. Although as it turns out,

"Last minute arrangement. I didn't think you'd have a problem with it, I thought you'd enjoy the peace and quiet."

I drain my wine glass, "Amen to that." As I top up my glass I look over at Anna, taking in for the first time her pyjama bottoms and trampoline squad hoodie. "You didn't want to go out?" I ask, "You've effectively got the night off."

She shakes her head, and gestures at me with a half drunk bottle of Stella Artois in her hand, "Nah, I fancied a night in. Do you mind?"

My turn to shake my head. Tired or not, I had no issue with spending an evening with her. At 26 she was older than the other Nannies Grace had, had, which made her a lot more reliable in my book, and if I was honest, really good company. Once upon a time I might have balked at the idea of sharing my home with another woman – female friendship has never been my thing – but Anna had joined us just after the death of my father, to which end it was good to have someone else around the house again, and our friendship had grown from there.

"So," I top up my glass, "Made in Chelsea?"

She grins, more than aware of my secret penchant for trash television that I would never admit to anyone else in a thousand years. "In a minute," she replies, "but first I want the latest update on the 'the boys'."

Ah, the boys. One of the major pleasures that working in the ED has brought. It's been quite some time since I've been able to throw myself into the middle of a delicate situation and stir it up just because I can, and I had, in all honesty, forgotten just how much I missed it.

Until I met Doctors Hardy and Knight.

I'm not just doing it for kicks, although I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying it, but it's amazing the effect the introduction of healthy competition can have. When it's a case of first up, best dressed, everything becomes slightly sharper, and if positioning myself between them causes that to be all the more intense then no one loses. They become better Doctors, the department becomes more efficient and I get to have my fun.

As does my Nanny who is following the competition nearly as closely as I am.

I ponder the events of the shift, looking for the finest possible storytelling narrative to maximise Anna's enjoyment of the latest instalment.

"Dr Knight-"

"You mean Dr McSteamy." Anna cuts in, and I roll my eyes at the Grey's Anatomy reference, although subsequently correct myself.

"Dr McSteamy, thought he'd raise the stakes today. I walked into the department at 7.01am and he'd made 3 references to my own personal anatomy by 7.23."

"Subtle comments?" Anna asks, although she is somewhat missing the point. Yes, his comments were subtle, although accompanied as they were by smouldering come to bed eyes, they were pretty hard to miss. But compliments and flirtation are not what my game is about. He isn't meant to be clamouring for attention as a man chasing a woman, he's meant to impress me Registrar to Clinical Lead. I say as much to Anna but she just starts to laugh,

"Oh shut up. You love it."

I don't respond, because she's my employee and close as we are there are some things I just don't need to share. But yes, although it goes against my professional grain to do so, I do love it. When I tuck my Clinical Lead exterior into her cold frosty little box, the woman inside me loves it all. The way he undresses me with his eyes, the heat of his stare on my retreating figure as I sashay away from him in a corridor, the fact that if I wanted him I could have him with a click of my fingers.

But I will resist that temptation, because I'm making my mark right now. No room for added complications of a personal nature.

"Did you punish him for this misdemeanour?" Anna asks, prompting me to smile at the memory of his eventual comeuppance.

"No need." I tell her, "14 year old Bacardi Breezer vomit down his front did it for me."

She grins, obviously conjuring up the image in her head, and then as her smile widens asks, "Did you follow him to the locker room to watch him get changed?"

At her words, I feel my cheeks flush red slightly, not because I committed the crime, but because it had, at the very least, crossed my mind. What can I say? It's been a long time since I was with a man, and I am only human after all. I push the thought of rippling abs and a light dusting of chest hair from my mind and force the conversation back to Clinical Lead territory and the topic of the actual competition.

"Anyway, medically speaking, today was a bit of a draw really. They both did well, Dr Hardy did some good work in resus, thinking on his feet, very on the ball and Dr Knight gave a difficult situation his upmost attention. When he's not acting like a horny teenager he's growing emotionally as a physician." I fall silent as I recall his gentle handing of the gay domestic violence victim and his obvious frustration when his patient returned home to his partner. "They've both done good today."

"Who's winning at chess?"

I mentally run my eyes over the famous chessboard when last I saw it, "Dr Hardy's slightly ahead." I confirm, "But then Dr Knight's little helper has been kept busy elsewhere today."

Anna finishes her beer, a look of confusion on her face, "Max? What's he been doing?"

I start to laugh, the memory of Max, Zoe and the linen cupboard amusing me not for the first time that evening. Oh, I'd have words with Zoe about it; suggest that really it might be better to keep her personal liaisons out of work time. I'd look stern and disapproving, make her feel completely uncomfortable and run away with her tail between her legs, but at the end of the day, we've all been there. The first six weeks I was with Michael I don't think we made it through a shift without ducking into the on call room at least once, if not more.

I turn my attention back to Anna, who is still looking at me questioningly, and finally answer her her, with a knowing smirk, "It's not what he's been doing, Anna." I explain, "It's who."

xxx

In spite of my initial tiredness, it turns into a late night. Once Anna is up to date with news from the hospital, we sit sluggishly in front of the Made in Chelsea marathon, order Thai food, consume too much alcohol and enjoy the fact that for once neither of us is on duty for Grace.

Eventually, about 1, I say goodnight and head up to my bedroom, crashing out before I've even had the energy to remove my make up and work clothes.

To which end, when I'm woken by the insistent ringing of the phone a few short hours later, I find myself on top of the duvet, in rumpled shirt and skirt, with first vestiges of a hangover starting to kick in. I force my eyes to focus on my alarm clock, and discovering its just 6am, get ready to rip a strip off of whichever complete idiot is on the other end of the phone.

"Connie, its Charlie Fairhead." I grimace inwardly hearing Charlie's voice. I'm not working or on call this weekend, so for him to be ringing at this time it has to be something big. Something I'm too drunk to deal with. I tuck the phone between my head and shoulder, and get out of bed, heading to my wardrobe in search of clean clothes, "What is it? Train derailment? Plane crash?"

"It's Grace."

That's how he says it. Just like that. No sugar coating it, no build up. He doesn't even say it gently; just two blunt words that make my heart go cold.

This can't be happening again. 5 years ago, through my own bloody stupidity, I nearly lost her. Those 48 hours with Grace and then Sam so ill, were the worst I have experienced in my entire life. My legs buckle at the memory and I struggle to speak, although I desperately need answers.

"What is it?" I lower myself onto the bed, because I can no longer trust my legs to support me, "What's happened?"

He tries to reassure me with that same calm almost monotone voice I've heard him use with so many patients, but he doesn't tell me the one thing I need to know. He doesn't answer my question. I ask again, and when he responds, his tone his more firm.

"Connie. Can you please just come in? We can talk more when you're here."

I call a taxi, throw on jeans and a sweatshirt and then, in a daze walk to Anna's room and wake her. She looks even worse than I do, if that's humanly possible, but as I break the news to her she sobers up, almost instantly. There's no question as to whether she'll come with me; day off or not, Grace is her charge, she spends more time with her than I do in any given week, and wild horses wouldn't keep her away.

I leave her changing and head downstairs my head whirling. I know I should probably contact Sam, but with him so far away and me knowing so little, there seems to be no point. Instead I pace the kitchen, fighting by the bile that rises continually in my throat, and wishing I could wake up from the nightmare.

By the time the taxi hoots his horn outside, no doubt pleasing the neighbours no end, Anna has appeared. She makes to follow me out to the car, but then stops and heads back upstairs. I call her back, angry with her for wasting vital time, but when reappears a minute or so later, clutching Grace's much loved, somewhat tired looking cuddly Woody from Toy Story, I understand completely and my anger dissipates.

It's only as she hands Woody to me, once we're in the taxi and our journey under way that I find myself questioning why Woody is with us in the first place, when he ought to be somewhere else entirely.

"Why did she leave him at home? Woody goes everywhere with her."

Anna smiles sadly, "Peer pressure. The other girls say Toy Story isn't cool."

In spite of the turmoil I'm in, and having no idea what to expect when we reach work, her words make me feel even worse, which I wouldn't have thought was possible. I stare down at the toy who has been Grace's favourite for so long, the one she wouldn't sleep without, the one she cried for every night for a fortnight when we left him in the departure lounge in Heathrow Airport on the way to our holiday in Lake Garda, and I wonder when exactly we had reached the point where she'd been forced to grow up to the extent where she'd leave him behind.

"She's only 7."

Anna reaches out and gives my arm a reassuring squeeze, "Kids today eh?" She misses only a beat before asking the question she's obviously been desperate to ask me, "What do you think's wrong with her?"

I shrug, clueless. I know it must be serious, if it was a broken bone or something easily mended, Charlie would have said as much over the phone. He wouldn't be putting me through this, the journey from hell.

We ride in silence the rest of the way, as I have no wish to do the 'what ifs' and 'maybes'. It's only when we arrive outside the ED that Anna speaks again.

"It's funny." She murmurs, staring out of the window, where Jeff and Big Mac are cleaning their ambulance, and Zoe is arriving for work, an 'I've just been shagged' smile on her face, "I've heard so much about this place. I was so keen to visit, see it all for myself. But not like this…"

I can tell she's near to tears, and I realise that for once, my competent and unflappable employee and friend, is about as far away from those two words as it is possible to be, yet I find myself unable to reassure her. I can't tell her Grace will be OK or that there's nothing to worry about, because right now it feels like my world is ending.

Again.

xxx


	2. Chapter 2

As we enter the department, I can see that morning handover is just getting underway at the Nurse's station. Martin Ashford, who has been the on duty Consultant overnight is in full flow, but seeing me approach he hands over to Tess, and comes to my side.

"Connie…"

I cut him dead. No time for niceties.

"Where is she?"

"I'll take you to her in a moment; I just need to talk to you." He's trying my patience, and as he tries to guide me to the relative's room I completely flip out. I don't want to go there; I don't want to become all the desperate people I've spoken to in the room in the past. I knock his arm, which is on my own, away. "No. We go to my office."

I don't give him chance to argue, bowling ahead, unlocking the door, and moving inside to wait for him. He appears seconds later with Anna in tow, and although it's the last thing I want to be doing, I make the introductions.

"This is Anna, Grace's Nanny, you can talk in front of her. Anna, this is Martin Ashford." The duty done I get back to the matter at hand, "What the bloody hell is going on?"

At first what he tells me makes no sense. It makes everything seem like a huge anti-climax, like everyone has been overreacting, and I've been thrust into turmoil for no good reason.

"She was sick?" I sit at my desk, trying to get my head around it, "That's it? You've brought me here for that. I don't get it. A vomiting 7 year old is hardly a curious incident. She was at a sleepover; they probably ate too much Haribo and drank too much Coke. This is fucking ridiculous. Where is sh-"

I stop abruptly, taking in the serious expression on his face, and I realise I'm missing something; something big. I take deep breath, "What am I missing?"

"She vomited blood, Connie."

My head starts to spin and were it not been for years of medical training I'd probably pass out, but, as it is, I pull it together and switch myself into the safest, most in control mode I know. Doctor mode.

"Well, she was retching." I get to my feet, "she probably burst a blood vessel in her throat. It's not a big deal, just bad in loco parentis parenting – she shouldn't have had so much crap before bed."

I get to the door before Martin grabs my arm, disabusing me of the notion and taking me away from my safe place.

"Connie. Listen to me. This wasn't traces of blood in vomit. She vomited the blood."

And those are the last words I hear, before the world goes black.

xxx

I come round soon after, still in my office, sitting on the leather sofa, with Anna propping me up. She looks stricken, her face tearstained and my first thought is to try and comfort her.

"There are lots of things it could be." I say, "Lots of treatable things." I turn to Martin who is still stood by the door, "I want the full spectrum of tests. LFTs, CBCs and-" I falter slightly, hating the idea of subjecting my daughter to what I'm about to suggest, "an endoscopy. As soon as possible. Is she awake?" I pause, thinking it through, "Because if so you need to sedate her first."

Martin moves to my side, "Connie, I'm on it, but you need to be mother right now. Let us get on with our jobs."

I open my mouth to argue, but deep down I know he's right. I look up at him tiredly, my head banging from the combination of too much alcohol and too little sleep, "Where is she? I want to see her."

"Resus, as a precaution." Martin replies, "Lily's with her. She's not left her side since she was admitted."

It sounds uncharitable, but I'm not surprised. Dr Chao is like every other over ambitious Junior Doctor I've ever met, taking any opportunity to suck up to the powers that be and climb the ladder, even if that means muscling in on the treatment of her Clinical Lead's daughter. Hell, I'm not judging, I'd have done the same once upon a time.

After asking Martin to keep me posted, I head to resus, with Anna at my side. Although my primary concern is for my daughter, I'm worried about her too. I've always considered her to be something of an equal but now I feel like I need to parent her as well. She's obviously terrified for Grace, and whilst I consider myself to be equally cursed and blessed by my medical knowledge, at least I'm on home territory.

Grace is thankfully the only one in the room, the busy day obviously leading to a quiet night. I'm comforted to see my darling daughter is sleeping, not in any pain or struggling with the fear of being in hospital. She's been changed into a hospital gown that drowns her, and Lily is beside her, checking her obs with the military precision I would expect. She glances up as I approach; acknowledging my arrival with what I presume she thinks is a comforting smile.

"Mrs Beauchamp. We're taking good care of her."

"I'm sure you are." I pick up Grace's notes from the end of the bed and sit down beside her, in a chair which has obviously been strategically left for me. There isn't one for Anna though, and I use this fact to seize the opportunity to get rid of Lily, at least momentarily so I can have a moment alone with my daughter without facing the scrutiny of a member of my staff.

She scuttles off in search of a chair right away, leaving Grace, Anna and I alone. Anna moves to the opposite side of the bed to me, placing Woody, who she must have picked up when I blacked out, in the crook of Grace's arm, before taking her hand.

"Lily's is everything you described. And more."

It might have seemed a flippant and irreverent comment given the situation we were facing, but in a way it was easier than dealing with the bigger issues and I found myself smiling weakly, "Oh yes. She's going to be stuck to us like glue, end of shift or not."

Anna smiles back knowingly, "And she won't be the only one. Did I spy McSteamy and McDreamy at the Nurses station?"

I hadn't noticed Dr Knight or Hardy when we arrived, but I knew they were both due on shift, so nod, although describing Ethan as McDreamy seemed like labelling a Labrador pup as something I'd like to go on a date with. Not that it's the right moment to get into that with Anna. Instead, I glance down at Grace's chart, trying to put the pieces together, but achieving very little as the words swim in front of my eyes. Anna must see me looking, because she asks timidly, "Is it true what you said? Can it be treated?"

I nod, "Of course. There are lots of things it could be. Try not to worry." The last words sound shallow, and I know it's in part because I'm struggling to believe it myself. Hematemesis is, by its very nature, incredibly serious.

Before Anna can reply, Lily is back with a chair, which she gives to Anna before hovering at my side.

"What do you want, Dr Chao?" Finding her presence intrusive, I can't help but snap at her, regretting it instantly as I note not only her crestfallen look, but also Anna's obvious surprise and concern. As my Nanny, she's not seen my work persona in action, but by my own admission the words are colder and more snappy than even I'd intended. I sigh, and try again, "Sorry Lily, can I help you?"

She nods, faltering slightly in her response, "The gentleman who came in with Grace, her friend's father. He'd like to see you."

My gut instinct is to say no, not wanting to leave my daughter's side for a second, but at the same time I have a need to know what happened, and the all too brief words, scribbled on Grace's notes don't even begin to tell me. I lean over, kissing her forehead gently, as I have done so many times in the past, and then address Anna, "Will you ask someone to come for me if anything happens?"

"Of course." She nods, and then referencing our conversation of the evening before regarding Hannah's father, adds, "Try and keep your breasts unfondled eh?"

xxx

In any event whilst my breasts remain safe, the lecherous bastard still takes the opportunity to cop a feel elsewhere whilst giving me what I suppose is meant to be a comforting hug when I arrive at the relative's room. Call me old fashioned, but manhandling someone you've met all but a handful of times when they're worried sick about their child is about a million miles from appropriate.

I extricate myself from his embrace and sit myself down about as far away from him as I can possibly manage, trying not to look at his shirt which is splattered with blood. Grace's blood.

"What happened?"

He tells me that Grace had stomach ache at midnight, and when I voice the opinion that it could have been junk food related, he informs me that there's no junk food in their home, and that little ImaniHannah never touches unnatural sugars, instead snacking on organic nut roast bars and carrot sticks.

I can't imagine anything worse.

Never the less, he explains, they gave her water to sip and settled her back down, thinking nothing of it until 5.30am when they were awoken by screams and found their daughter hysterical, and mine in pyjamas and duvet covered in blood, at which point they called an ambulance and here we are.

I say little in response, my mind racing, questioning what the cause could possibly be. Certainly nothing he's told me gives any indicators and the various possibilities that come to mind cause greater concern rather than reassurance.

I thank him for bringing Grace in, and then leave again, ducking a second of his supportive hugs. I walk out of the door and straight into Zoe, who after looking like she'd like the ground to swallow her up for a matter of seconds realises I have bigger things on my mind than her linen cupboard tryst and turns her attention to the matter at hand.

"Connie." She places at hand on my arm in that universal gesture for 'there, there' "I am so," she fumbles for a satisfactory word and then settles for a cliché, "sorry to hear about Grace. How are you holding up?"

I shrug, not wanting to detail the extent to which I am not holding up. "I just need answers."

She nods, "Of course you do. And we're trying to get them for you. Martin's staying on so we've got an extra pair of hands. Lily too." The way I grimace inwardly must reflect on my face too because Zoe smiles knowingly, "I know. She's full on. I've taken her off of resus to give you some space."

I smile weakly to show my gratitude and then indicate that I need to get back to my daughter. She steps to one side to let me through, but I've only taken two steps when she calls after me.

"Connie, let me know, yeah? If there's anything else I can do."

I nod in thanks, pushing my way through the double doors to resus, wherein I'm astounded to see Grace awake and chatting to Anna who is stroking her hair. She's understandably pale, but otherwise looks calm. I move quickly over to join them, and Grace lifts her hand to wave at me when she sees me approach, before bringing me hastily up to speed in her own childlike way.

"Mummy, I sicked blood. It was like a horror movie."

I sit beside her, taking her hand in mine, and wanting to keep her as calm as possible, retort, "Grace Beauchamp, you've never seen a horror movie."

She smiles a smile that warms my heart, "I saw 'Scooby Doo on Zombie Island'."

Fair point.

Keeping my tone light, I ask her how she's feeling and if she has any pains anywhere, but she replies in the negative, before looking me up and down and commenting, with a very precise and well perfected Australian accent,

"Mummy, you look like shit."

Across the bed, Anna cringes but I can't help but laugh, loving the fact that as ill as my daughter appears to be, she still has her spirit, and an excellent grasp of our Nanny's catchphrase of choice. Grace laughs right along with me, but then, suddenly, out of nowhere, her breath catches, she coughs, splutters and in the next second her hospital gown is splattered with blood.

The next moment I'm on my feet, raising the head of the bed, and seeking a cardboard sick bowl and turning to analyse the monitor my daughter is attached to. In that moment I bury the desperate mother inside me once again and do what I always do in this room. Take charge.

Until Anna takes it all away, locating the emergency button and hitting it bringing the whole team running. Martin and Zoe. Lily and Ethan.

I ignore them all. Grab Grace's wrist, start taking her pulse.

Rita. Robyn.

1 beat, 2 beats, 3 beats.

Cal.

"CAL!" Zoe's voice cuts across my counting "Get her out of here."

With no further warning I feel a pair of arms around me, pulling me away from my daughter and out of the room. I fight it to begin with but soon realise I'm fighting a battle I'm not going to win and succumb.

Once we're beyond the doors, he releases me from his grip and we stand there, caught in the moment. Wordlessly, he reaches out, repeating Zoe's earlier hand on arm gesture, and then, he opens his mouth to speak.

"Don't." I cut him off, not wanting to hear the platitudes, nor the gentleness that I know is bound to be in his voice. I can't take that, not from him, not without going under and that's the last thing Grace needs, me crumbling. Sensing his confusion though, I feel I should explain. "If you're nice to me, I'll break."

For a beat, he looks lost, and then, with a perfectly executed grin that doesn't meet his eyes, he shrugs, "Fine." He runs his eyes up and down my body. "I was only going to tell you that your arse looks hot in those jeans anyway."

xxx


	3. Chapter 3

Dr Knight – Cal - leads me to my office, getting me away from the general melee of the department, and it's only once I'm there that I realise I've left something – or rather someone – behind in resus.

"Where's Anna?"

Keeping the banter going as I'd requested; he forces a smile, "The Hot Nanny? Zoe said she could stay."

I bristle at his words, miffed that I, as Grace's mother am being kept at arm's length, whilst her Nanny is still at her side. He must sense my anger because he moves to sit beside me, and speaks outloud the questions in my head.

"Why her? Why not you?" He takes my hand, which somewhere along the way I've clenched into a fist, and turns it over, revealing that I'm clutching an unwrapped intubation tube within it. "We knew you'd want to be involved."

I stare down at the pipe, which truth be told I don't recall picking up or unwrapping in the first place, and much as it hurts I understand why I've been pulled out. That said I'm not keen on the fact that my department have been conspiring against me. I look up at him questioningly, "It was pre planned? I was always going to be taken out if there was an emergency with Grace?"

He nods, "It was raised in handover this morning, and before you get all snippy, we were protecting you." He takes the intubation tube from me and tosses it in my waste bin, "You were a medical malpractice suit waiting to happen."

Too exhausted and terrified for my daughter to argue, I close my eyes, leaning my head on the back of the couch. I take a few moments to gather myself, then open my eyes again. He's still there, watching me intently. Not that that's anything new – he's been watching me for weeks; at times it's seemed impossible for me to walk into a room without his eyes being on me, but this is different. He's no longer undressing me in his head; he's worrying about me instead, and that's not a good feeling.

I ponder telling him to stop it, but I doubt it would do me any good. So instead I try and ignore it and turn my attention to practicalities.

"I should call her father."

Surprise registers on his face, predictably given the way he's been chasing me, and I decide to put him speedily out of his misery.

"We're not together. He lives in New York."

Apparently relieved, he takes the opportunity to quiz me about Sam, whether to distract me from what's going on in resus or just out of general curiosity is anyone's guess.

"Is he a good guy? A good father."

"The best." I tell him, before adding, "You'd like him. You're very alike."

The words hang in the air, surprising even me. It's not the first time it's occurred to me how alike Cal and Sam are, but it's the first time I've ever admitted it, and the connotations of that are there for both he and I to see.

It makes me feel guilty. It's not the right time to be dwelling on toyboy related maybes. My entire focus ought to be on my daughter, lying on a trolley in resus, critically ill, with symptoms that make it seem like she's struggling for survival.

I get to my feet, move to the other side of my desk, lifting the phone receiver, as good as dismissing him with a word.

He takes the hint, and goes to leave but at the last second turns back to address me.

"Connie," his tone is soft, gentle, caring, all the things I don't want or need at that second in time, and yet pine for so badly on hearing them, "Whatever support you need right now, I'm here for you. OK? You don't have to go through this alone."

I barely manage to hold it together until the door closes behind him, and then, within seconds the tears begin to flow.

xxx

My telephone conversation with Sam prompts further tears, although I do my best to hold it together for his sake. He's naturally beside himself and is checking flight times before our conversation has even concluded. Not that I blame him; I'd be no different if I were the one thousands of miles away.

We promise to keep in touch over the coming hours and then I hang up and leave the security of my office and return to the doors of resus where I look through the glass panes to see that the moment of fraught emergency seems to have passed.

Zoe greets me as I enter reassuring me as quickly as she possibly can that the latest vomiting incident has been shorter and less intense than previous episodes; for all the reassurance that is.

She takes me across the room to my daughter's bedside where Anna, with Robyn's help, is just finishing up changing Grace's gown. I feel pangs of regret that I wasn't there sooner to do it myself although the urgent call to Sam that kept me away was obviously vital too. I sit down, searching Grace's face for clues to how she's feeling. She's paler than before, but incredibly still smiling and her smile widens further still as she realises I have returned. In fact, she laughs.

"You got chucked out!"

Zoe, who is stood behind me, laughs too then, before moving to perch herself on the edge of the trolley and addressing Grace directly.

"That's because she's naughty."

I don't get chance to object to said libelous statement before Zoe starts talking to Grace again, trying to explain the concept of a 'light sedation', the treatment she's proposing prior to undertaking the endoscopy. I watch on, not particularly impressed or amused by her clumsy child aimed bedside manner, but after a minute or so, Anna, who has been listening intently interrupts.

"Could I explain?" she doesn't wait for Zoe to agree before she turns to Grace, "Hey Sport," she says gently, "what Dr Hanna is trying to say is, she's going to sprinkle you with fairy dust, so when she uses the little camera to see in your tummy you won't feel uncomfortable because it'll be like you're swimming through a rainbow."

This somewhat trippy explanation seems to do the trick, leaving Grace keen to ride the rainbow wave and Zoe free to start the procedure. She does open her mouth to suggest I would like to wait outside, but having been side lined once, I'm not prepared for it to happen a second time. However having performed enough endoscopy's myself to know that they're no fun for layman spectators I suggest that Anna takes a break, which she reluctantly does, disappearing off with Robyn to go in search of the coffee and paracetemol that both she and I are much in need of.

With just she, my daughter and I present, Zoe administers the child dose of sedative and takes the brief interlude until it begins to work to try and apologise to me for my earlier removal from the room. I shake her apologies away, which seems to surprise her.

She looks at me, confused, "You're not pissed at me?"

I shake my head, "Cal explained. It made sense." I think back to my earlier conversation with Martin, "I can't be a Doctor and Mummy right now. It's one or the other."

Zoe looks relieved, and busies herself with the equipment she needs for the procedure, whilst I sit and hold Grace's hand, glad to be spending some time with her. Just before she's about to begin, Zoe looks at me curiously, "You and Cal, you get on well."

There's an implication there, making it clear that our fun flirtations have not gone unnoticed among the other staff. Luckily, I'm holding more cards than Zoe is right now. I smile at her knowingly, "Dr Hanna… don't judge everyone by your own standards."

She smiles bashfully, and then turns her attention back to Grace, tilting her head back so she can slide the camera into her mouth and down her throat. My brave little soldier doesn't react, although I know that's as much down to the sedative as anything else. I bite my lip hard, desperately trying not to react, close to tears as I can only imagine the discomfort she must be in. If Zoe notes my tears, she says nothing, concentrating on the task in hand, allowing me a modicum of dignity, in a situation that is seriously lacking in it.

My focus is entirely on Grace herself, and to that end, I don't even think to look up at the monitor to take in the results of the endoscopy until I hear Zoe take a sharp intake of breath and let out a low, "Fucking hell". In a panic, I swing my eyes round, echoing Zoe's own words as I catch sight of the picture on the screen.

My daughter's oesophagus is red raw, inflamed to a greater extent than I've seen in any adult or child. It's little wonder that her condition is such that it is, and yet, it throws up far more questions than answers.

I look over to Zoe, more than happy to defer to her in this instance. "What the HELL is causing that?"

Obviously shaken herself, she asks me for a moment, completing the procedure as I sit staring at the monitor, almost struck dumb by the results. When she's done, she gently removes the camera from Grace's throat and then comes over and uncharacteristically, for both of us actually, wraps her arms around me holding me as a mother would a child. I look up at her, desperate now for answers, but she has none to give.

"Damage like that-", she falters, glancing at the screen which is now showing just static, "I just don't know Connie. I mean I've seen it," she shakes her head, as if doubting herself, "but in a 70 year old alcoholic, not a 7 year old child. I'm gonna have to look into this. I'll get on to paeds, see how soon they can take her, but we'll do what we can in the meantime."

I nod, her words barely sinking in beyond the mention of 70 year old alcoholics. I've always prided myself on my medical knowledge and extensive training, but at this second, with my beloved daughter's life depending on it, I know nothing. I have no explanation and no idea how to save her.

Moving away from me, Zoe starts to pack up the machine, then glances at over at me, concern written all over her face.

"Can I get you anything, Connie?"

I go to shake my head, not knowing what she could possibly get me that would make the situation any better. Then, suddenly, an idea hits me.

"Can you get me Dr Hardy and Dr Knight please?"

xxx

They appear at Grace's bedside a few minutes later, and they've obviously had an update on her condition because I've never seen either one of them look so grave. Ethan remains on the opposite side of the bed, but Cal comes up behind me and puts his hand on my shoulder. If his brother finds this weird he doesn't comment, presumably figuring it's not the time.

I shrug away from him then look at them both, fixing in them in what I hope is at the very least a watered down version of the Beauchamp glare. I don't have the energy for the full one.

"The game ends here." I'm amazed by the strength in my voice, considering how close I consider myself to be to breaking, "The competition is over. No more getting one up on each other, no more chess, no more Cain versus Abel. You want my respect? You work together. You're both excellent Doctors but no man is an island. You work together, you find a diagnosis, you find a cure," I glance at Grace who looks tinier than ever on the hospital trolley and feel a lump rising in my throat, "so I can take my baby home." I turn my attention back to them, "Do I make myself clear?"

Ethan responds first, looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights, but agreeing none the less. Cal takes a few seconds longer but then he nods, "Of course." He turns to his brother, "You go get started eh? I'll be right with you." He waits until Ethan has gone, and then without asking for permission takes me in his arms and plants a series of kisses in my hair.

"No stone unturned, I promise."


End file.
